


Beware

by StarvingMe



Series: Inqed Words [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, getting srs, more drunk angel, somewhat fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4540791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarvingMe/pseuds/StarvingMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor starts to get to the bottom of the reason for her exile and starts to wonder who she can really trust--if anyone at all--and whether her friend is really keeping her safe, or just keeping her trapped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Those who offer friendship will not always be what they seem.  
Beware of something nasty pretending to be something nice.”  
~ _Demons_

The Inquisitor looked up from her book when the doorbell sounded, frowning.  She’d been pouring over her notes for the last hour and compiling a list of possible leads to still explore, trying to ignore the way the list got shorter and shorter each time she made it.  When the doorbell sounded again, more urgently this time, she looked up at the clock.  Wordsmith never used the doorbell—it was her place, so she wouldn’t need it—and the neighbors never bothered them for anything…

Setting her pen down, she walked to the door, thumbing the intercom button.  “Um…” she said after a moment, leaning closer to the speaker.  “Can I help you?”

“Speedy’s Messenger Service,” a voice responded.  “Got a package for a… Cass…. something… Sorry, I don’t know how to pronounce this last name…”

Blue eyes narrowed as she frowned deeply.  She debated dismissing the messenger, as she hadn’t ordered anything, and this sounded suspicious, even to her.  But if it was from Wordsmith…  Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair before pressing the button again.  “All right, come on up.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” the voice crackled as she tried to figure which button would let him in.  “Company regulations state I can’t enter a residence.  I’ll need you to come down here, please.”

Her suspicion grew as she frowned, eyes narrowing a little before she said, “You won’t be entering my residence…  Just the building…”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, “Just doing my job, and those are the rules…”

Glancing around, she grabbed the spare key that she used sometimes when she went out, sighing as she jabbed the button.  “Fine, I’ll be right down…”

A quick hop in the elevator and the Inquisitor was striding towards the front doors.  The messenger looked normal enough, dressed in a dark brown uniform that looked like it belonged there.  His cropped hair was hid well under the ball cap with the blue and gold emblem.  He smiled at her through the glass door, holding up the package as he waited patiently for her to open the door.  Opening it just a crack, she held out her hand to take the clipboard and sign for the package, still watching him closely for any signs of betrayal.  His blue-grey eyes looked intently down at her before he handed it over, clicking the pen and letting her sign quickly for it.  Holding out the package to her, he gripped it tightly as she tried to take it from him, leaning in as close as the door would allow.  “You aren’t safe here…  And you didn’t get this from me,” he said, his voice low as the Inquisitor’s eyes flashed wide.  Just like that, he released the package, letting her stumble back inside as he smiled at her.  “You have a good day, ma’am!”

Scrambling with the door, she managed to wrench it open and call out after him, “W-wait!  Please, I…” But he was gone, the street empty around her as she clutched the package.  After a few moments, she turned to slip back inside, numbly riding the elevator back up to the apartment.

In the kitchen, she stared down at the plain brown package.  She frowned, weighing it in her hands as she tried to determine if she should open it now, or if she should wait until Wordsmith got home… Sighing, she grabbed the scissors, carefully starting to open the package.

  
  


***

  
  


Wordsmith came home late that night, groaning as she kicked her heels off, rubbing her aching ankles as she slowly recovered.  It had been a packed day of deals, both made and declined, and she had started to reach for the cupboard to pull out the large bottle of tequila and a cut-crystal glass, quickly pouring some and knocking it back.  She took a breath, letting the burn sink into her throat and bones before pouring another glass, carrying both bottle and glass as she made her way to the library, finding the lights dimmed.  Sighing as she wandered into the room, she shook her head a little, spying the Inquisitor lying on the rug in front of the fire.

Frowning, she set the bottle on the coffee table, downing her glass before placing it on a coaster, walking over to her friend. “Come on, angel, it’s late… You need to get some sleep…”  She blinked in confusion as her foot connected with something, sending it skittering.  Frowning at the bottle as it rolled to a stop, she found a half-filled glass on the floor in front of the Inquisitor, blue eyes staring at the deep red liquid.  “Ah, fer fuck’s sake, angel!” she swore, frowning down at her friend.  “Do you  _enjoy_  being hung over?”

“Couldn’t help it,” the Inquisitor said softly, finger lightly touching the stem of her glass.  “It just… seemed like the thing to do…”

“What, drinking half my liquor?” she said, hands resting on her hips.

“I left your wine alone…  I read online that the body can’t really tell the difference between the cheap stuff and the expensive ones, so…”

“Oh, angel,” the demon said, leaning down to try and help her up.  “Didn’t anybody ever teach you that you don’t have to drink the entire liquor store?” she added, trying to joke as her friend managed to sit up finally.  “Come on, let’s get you some water and then into bed…  I’ll even play you that piano CD you like…”

The Inquisitor stumbled as she managed to get to her feet, slipping a little before righting herself as she looked at her friend, rubbing her bleary eyes as she murmured, “And the violins too?”

Sighing softly as she helped her friend out of the library, the raven-haired demon nodded.  “Yes, and the violins too…”

“And the cellos?” she asked, sniffling a little as they shuffled to the spare room to deposit the angel on her bed.

“Yes, Inquisitor…  The cellos too…” she said, helping her friend flop onto the bed, watching her eyes flutter closed for a few moments before she looked up at Wordsmith, eyes shining in the faint light that filtered in through the curtains.  Sad blue eyes glinted silver as she gave her friend a watery smile.

“Thank you…”

At the smile, the demon couldn’t help returning it, tugging the blanket out of the way before covering the drunk angel, smiling just a little at the small giggle the angel gave.  Getting up, the Wordsmith waved her hand, three stereos flickering to life around the Inquisitor’s bed.  Wiggling up to the head of the bed, the angel peeked out from under the blanket, watching her stride to the door as she flailed a little, “Wait!”

Pausing at the door, the demon glanced back, watching her friend struggle stiffly to get back up, leaning on her elbows, eyes clear and serious as she said, “Just… be safe out there, okay?”

Dark brows drew close together as Wordsmith frowned, confusion playing across her face as she leaned against the doorframe.  “What do you mean, angel?”

Biting her lip, she frowned, eyes lowering before she shook her head.  “I don’t know, I just…  It’s a feeling…  Something’s going on, I know it… I just…  I can’t remember…”  Flopping back onto the bed, her eyes fluttered closed before she sighed.  “I can’t rescue you if you get into trouble…”

Chuckling at that, the demon shook her head, standing up straight again.  “No worries there, Angel—I know how to handle myself…”

Blue eyes flashed silver in the moonlight as she watched her friend leave the room, murmuring softly, “It’s the rest of the world I don’t trust…”  Closing her eyes once more, she rolled onto her side, letting the music wash over her and pull her off into sleep…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wordsmith finds a letter addressed to the Inquisitor, and the Inquisitor gets an unexpected guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I was debating on doing this for a little while… and then decided that it needed to happen.)

“There are dragons out there.  
I wish I could keep you safe.”  
~ _Demons_

 

Sitting at the kitchen table, the Wordsmith poured one last drink, staring blankly down at what looked like a box that had been torn open.  She’d cleaned up the wine bottles—only three of them, she had expected more—and the Inquisitor’s glass from the library after putting the angel to bed, and she was nearly ready to turn in herself.  She could hear the radios still going in the other room, quiet and lilting, and she knew the Inquisitor was fast asleep—she’d popped in twice already just to make sure.  She was almost surprised to find the Inquisitor half-sprawled on her stomach the last time, one arm hanging off the bed as if she was reaching for something, a pale leg stretched out off the edge.  Dead to the world, her hair was fanned out around her as she clutched the pillow tightly with her other hand.  She didn’t even stir when the demon casually slipped her arm back onto the bed, nudging her leg onto the mattress before pulling the blanket over her friend again.

She had hesitated for a moment, glancing down at her friend’s back, eyes following the lines and sigils.  They were deep, but they were healed and weren’t bothering her as much as they used to, but still…  If only there was a way to get word to one of the angels…  One of them had to be sympathetic to the Inquisitor’s plight—what kind of haloed bastard could see her suffering and turn her away—but how to get them to listen without interfering directly…  The King would know the instant she tried something—she was still under suspicion as it was…  Maybe Guthrie…

 _Just give it a rest—the Inquisitor will get tired of your lackluster help soon enough, and she’ll reach out to other angels,_  that dark voice said as she tried to push it away with another swallow of alcohol.  That’s what she really needs—other angels.  They would know what to do.  They could help. Maybe they should start looking—perhaps not Castiel, the King would notice, but someone smaller, less important, who could get by without being noticed…

 _No angel is stupid enough to come when a demon calls,_ the voice sneered, making her pause.

The Inquisitor had, though. She’d come with no ulterior motive that she could find, no dark plan…  She hadn’t even done anything, except try to help.

_What’s better than having a demon with a personal debt to you?_

Sighing, she swallowed the liquor quickly, closing her red eyes as she felt the spicy burn flicker through her.  Her meatsuit was going to feel it in the morning—but that was on the list of tomorrow’s problems.

Opening her eyes again, she stared at the box blankly before something clicked.  It wasn’t  _her_  box. Reaching out, she pulled it close, glancing at the torn address label.  No return address, just a delivery sticker with the Inquisitor’s vessel’s name on it.  Frowning deeply at that, she quickly upended it, the small box yielding only a folded letter. Picking it up, she let her eyes pass over the words a few times before it sank in.  

  
  


_Inquisitor,_

_Please know that you still have allies._

_We are few, but we know you are innocent.  We would see your grace restored and your position returned within the garrison._

_Beware the company you keep.  Surely your exile thus far has taught you to question the “friends” you’ve made.  All is not as it seems—you are not safe there.  We will keep in touch, Inquisitor.  Please hold on a little longer._

_G_

  
  


As she read the words again and again, she felt the hurt well up in her chest, bubbling into a roiling fury. She wanted nothing more than to crumple the letter up and throw it into the library fireplace.  Or, better yet, storm into the guest bedroom to demand an explanation from the exiled angel…

A scream tore through the apartment, and for a few moments, as the Wordsmith trembled with rage, she thought to herself,  _Good._

And then she remembered they were supposed to be alone in the apartment, and leapt up from the table, letting the chair clatter out of the way as the letter fluttered to the floor, practically sliding past the Inquisitor’s door in her haste to get to her friend.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Wake up, little bird,” a voice said softly, pulling the Inquisitor from her hazy slumber.  Ir wasn’t the Wordsmith—her voice definitely didn’t sound like that. Blinking several times, she rolled over, eyes searching the room for a moment before spotting him in the white wicker chair in the corner.

“Um,” she said softly, rubbing one eye as she tried to get a good look at him.  Dark suit, dark hair, stubble on his face… something about him, though, just made her uneasy as she shakily pushed herself up again.  “Wh-who… who’re you?  What’re you doing in my room?”

“ _Your_  room?” he asked, fixing her with a look that made her want to shrink back from him. There was something about this man, something bad that she needed to remember…  “So… not just  _temporary_  arrangements?”

“I… I don’t understand,” she said, eyes flicking to the door.  If she had her wings, she could make it—she would have a fighting chance—but she didn’t, and he was much closer to the door than she was.  “Who are—”

“I just came to see what  _vulture_  was still swooping around my little mouse,” he said, drawing her gaze again as her mind went blank.  Images flittered through her mind, wings, stretched wide, shadows, flitting about…  “It seems even a mouse can forget an enemy that’s wearing a skin as lovely as that.  Suppose I shouldn’t fault her too much for that…” he said, his voice like a sweet liquor with a chilling sort of aftertaste that made her shiver.  “Though, from the looks of those sigils… you aren’t much of a threat to anyone.”

“How do you know about…” she started to ask, her eyes widening as she realized who she was staring at.  Her heart hammered in her chest as she struggled with the urge to try to run.  She hadn’t been unfortunate enough to cross paths with the King before, though she’d come close a time or two.  Coming close and coming face-to-face, though, were two very different things.  Swallowing heavily, she drew into herself, trying to back away as she said quietly, “I haven’t hurt anyone… please… W-Wordsmith is my friend…  Please…”  His eyes glinted in the dark, making her shiver again as she diverted her gaze, bowing her head.  “Please don’t hurt her…”

A hand against her throat made her gasp, yanking her close as he stood over her, looking down at her terrified face.  “Hurt  _her_?  Why would I do that, when I can send a much,  _much_  clearer message through  _you_?”  His voice was low as he gave a panful squeeze of her throat, watching long fingers struggle to loosen his hold as her eyes glinted blue as midnight.  He could see them there, the sigils that bound her wings, the gaping whole where her grace had been torn free…  He could also see the burns and gashes beneath, the symbols that wouldn’t heal.  He could see the pieces of her that were broken and jammed roughly back together, the edges beginning to fade.  

If the eyes were the window to the soul, then the house was falling down around this one…

“I’m going to say this  _once_ , and I’m going to be as.   _Painfully_.  _Clear_.  About it,” he said, giving firm, almost crushing presses to the vessel’s throat, “as I can be…  Leave the mouse alone, or we’re going to find out just how quickly those erasure sigils can burn through an angel.” She choked, struggling feebily as he held her tightly, waiting until she looked up at him again before he hissed, “Do we have an understanding?”

She was barely able to move her head enough to nod, and just as quickly as he grabbed her, he let her go, watching as she tumbled from the bed, coughing and gasping for breath.

“Good,” he said, nodding a little to her.  “Well, then… if you don’t mind, I have other matters to address…  Enjoy the void when you get there.”

Just like that, he was gone, the Inquisitor gingerly touching her throat as she felt the bruises blossom there.  She’d come close, too close this time.  She didn’t have her grace—she couldn’t fight back like this…  Tears fell as she hiccupped, shuddering with the sob she tried to hold back before drawing as deep a breath as she could manage, letting out a pained, frightened screech that sounded like it had been ripped from a dying animal.  She wanted to crumple, to fall apart where she was on the floor, but all she could bring herself to do was to slump back against the bed, tears streaming down her face as she cried.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the King's visit.

“Just close your eyes…  
The sun is going down…  
You’ll be all right…  
No one can hurt you now…  
Come morning light…  
You and I’ll be safe and sound…”  
~ _Safe and Sound_

 

The angel was still in hysterics when Wordsmith managed to get her into the kitchen, setting her in a chair, carefully lifting her chin as red eyes looked over the dark marks as they grew, blossoming along her neck. As the Angel choked on her sobs, the demon frowned as she realized what she was looking at. Swallowing, she turned to fetch a glass of water and an ice pack from the freezer. Turning back to her friend, she saw the way her blue eyes flitted around the kitchen, the fear that shone in those eyes, even when she looked back to the Wordsmith, trying to take deep breaths to calm herself back down.

Stopping to stand in front of her, she pressed the water into her hand, letting her take a few hasty sips before pressing the ice-pack against the worst of the bruising. “... Mind telling me what-” the Wordsmith started to ask.

“Th-the King was in my room,” she managed softly, eyes closing tightly. “Crowley was... he... I... I didn't know what to do... I can't... I couldn't...”

Whatever dark thoughts she might've had fled at that. Cass's trembling slowed after several long moments, eyes closing as she took several deep breaths. For a few moments, Wordsmith's focus was far off, her heart hammering a hole in her chest as she realized what this meant...

The King _knew_.

He knew she'd disobeyed.

He knew that the Inquisitor was _here_ , and probably had known for some time.

And he could easily get to her whenever he chose.

It was bad enough that _she_ was a favored little chew toy when he was having a bad day—now he had a helpless little angel that couldn't even fly away if she wanted to, and it was all because Wordsmith had been sentimental.

Her thoughts were still so far away that she almost didn't hear it when the Inquisitor wiped her eyes, a sort of steely resolve slipping into place as she said, “I need to brush up on my devil's traps... Maybe acquire something from my old stash... I should have a few things...”

Red eyes flashed suddenly back to the present, blinking as she tried to focus on what she was saying. “What? No! We need to get you out of here! It's not safe for you _here_!”

Frowning at that, blue eyes met red, confusion writ in her face as she shook her head a little. “What're you talking about? It's not safe for me _anywhere_!” she said, starting to get up as she brushes off the ice pack, face serious. Starting to pace the length of the kitchen, she shook her head, a trembling hand running through her hair. “If I leave, the angels will find me before I'm ready, before I can defend myself. Here, I can at least barricade myself, to buy myself some time!” Turning back, she looked at Wordsmith, about to say something when she saw the frown on her friend's face.

“Cass,” was all she said as she started to stand up, fixing the angel with a look, slipping her sunglasses off and tossing them onto the table, brushing her own raven hair out of her face.

It took a few moments before she realized what that look meant, her expression falling as her shoulders slumped. “O-oh... I... I'm sorry,” she said softly, looking around. This was _Wordsmith's_ place, a fact she kept forgetting, and she was merely a guest here. She probably wanted her life back, her home and her job... Everything needed to just go back to being _normal_... but it couldn't do that if she stayed. “I just... I'm sorry,” she said again, nodding as she took a breath to fortify herself. “Please forgive me for overstepping.”

“It's fine, Cass,” the Wordsmith said, turning away to pour another glass. Work as going to be Hell—and that was only if it went well...

After a few moments of silence, the Inquisitor finally managed to murmur, “I just... let me get my shoes...”

The demon barely heard her, frowning as she watched her friend turn to walk down the hall. After a few moments, she heard the clicks of the stereos as they turned off, silence starting to flood the apartment as she realized what the Angel was doing.

She emerged again after another minute or so, tugging on her worn flats. She had changed her clothes, straightening out her pale blue dress as she bowed her head. She refused to look up at Wordsmith, simply reaching up to gently pull the silver clip from her hair. The demon stood numbly as her friend stopped in front of her, hands shaking as she stared down at the clip before she managed to look the Wordsmith in the eye.

With all the strength she could muster, she managed a small smile, fighting back the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes. “I... Thank you, Wordsmith,” she said gently, reaching out to push the clip into her hand, keeping the smile firmly in place. “Without you, I don't know what I would've done... I... I will find a way to pay you back, I promise...” Pulling her friend close, she did the only thing she could think of, holding her in a tight embrace for a moment as she closed her eyes.

 _Just a moment, that's all I need,_ she told herself, trying to commit the moment to her memory. _I want to remember this... Let me lose everything else—please don't take this moment from me..._

Pulling back with another soft apology, she turned away, slipping out the door as the frozen demon tried to process what had just happened. A _hug_? Where had that come from? And _tears_? What was the Inquisitor playing at?

The clip in her hand slipped between lax fingers, the ring of silver against the tile ringing hollow in the empty apartment as the Wordsmith started to come to her senses.

_Wait a second... That... that sounded a lot like a good-bye..._

The penny dropped, and the Wordsmith couldn't reach the door fast enough, shouting for her friend to stop, to come back...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep reading, my lovelies. We have a way to go yet before our tale is done.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Galahad.

“ You took my heart  
Deceived me right from the start  
You showed me dreams  
I wished they’d turn to real  
You broke the promise  
And made me realise  
It was all just a lie!”

~ _Angels_  by Within Temptation

 

The Inquisitor was halfway down the block by the time Wordsmith caught up to her, grabbing her arm and spinning her around as she gasped for breath. The night wind was cold and bitter, and she could feel the goosebumps along the angel's arm as blue eyes looked at her, tears streaming down the angel's face. “Where do you think you're going?! You can't just run off!” she cried, anger welling up in her chest again. “You won't last an hour out here!”

The Inquisitor took a deep breath, though there was a hint of a sniffle in it as she looked at her friend, standing firm. “I'm fully aware of my chances for survival, Wordsmith.”

“Bullshit!” the demon snapped, holding tight to her friend's arm when she tried to turn away again. “What in the bloody hell are you thinking?! If your superiors catch you out here, alone and unarmed, then your goose is cooked!”

Blue eyes turned steely as she looked at her friend, the streetlamp above them casting dark shadows across her face as it flickered for a moment. “I'm thinking that _your boss_ just showed up in _your flat_ without tripping so much as an alarm, and he was way too glad to use _my_ throat as a stress ball!”

Red eyes flicked down to the handprint across her throat before she looked back up to her friend. “I didn't know he was there,” Wordsmith said, frowning deeply. “You have to know that, Cass. I am a lot of things, but I would never have abandoned you to him like that.”

The angel searched her face, desperately seeking the deception. Every fiber of her being told her it was there—no demon would risk their neck for an angel, least of all one with no power, no influence, and little chance for survival. But, hard as she might try to look, she couldn't find it, slowly relaxing a little as she felt her guard slip. _It's always too easy to get comfortable, to forget you're on opposite sides of the fence..._

“You keep helping me,” she said, watching her friend closely. “ _Why?_ What do you hope to gain? The risks far outweigh the rewards at this point...”

“I have my reasons,” the Wordsmith said, that small smile quirking her lips. The Inquisitor couldn't help it, her own smile growing just a little. “Besides, I'm your friend, and friends don't leave friends hanging like that.”

Shaking her head a little at that, the angel sighed, frowning. “Well, as _your_ friend, I can't very well have you putting yourself in danger like that... Crowley was royally _pissed_ to find me there...”

“Yeah, well, let me worry about that,” the demon said, giving a slight grin. “It's my life, and I can do what I want with it.”

“ _Inquisitor_!” came a shout, jerking them back to the present, Cass' head lifting to search the sky as Wordsmith checked the shadows. There was only a glint in the sky as warning, the Inquisitor twisting to grab the demon, yanking her out of the way. She wasn't quite fast enough, the edge of the angel blade grazing her as it came down, but she managed to catch the arm that held it, wedging herself between the attacker and her friend.

“Galahad!” she hissed, arm shaking with the effort to stay his blade. “Stand down!”

Once the world was done shifting, Wordsmith's eyes widened, staring at the new angel. Sure, the Inquisitor was kind of tall, nearly as tall as Castiel was, but this angel's vessel rivaled them both. She could see a flash of wings, just for an instant, large and moonlight-white, almost casting the man in shadow as he stood over the angel. For just a fraction of that moment, red eyes caught the first glimpse of the Inquisitor's wings, silver so faint it was barely there, so much smaller than they had been, fractured and twisted...

_The price of doing one's job._

“Out of my way, Inquisitor! This demon must be put down!” he bellowed, piercing green eyes glinting in the dark. Her other arm shot up to hold him back, trembling a little beneath the strain. “This demon deserves the void for laying a hand on you!”

“She was helping me, Galahad!” Cass said, shaking her head as she struggled still. Her arms were screaming at her, the tired muscles protesting. Worst of all, the scars along her back burned, the white-hot pain shooting through her as she grit her teeth against it. “Wordsmith is a _friend_!”

“Hah!” the angel Galahad barked, eyes narrowing down at her. “I always knew you were many things, Inquisitor... But stupid enough to become a demon's thrall? Losing your grace has changed you...”

A dark sound akin to a snarl left her lips as she dug her nails into his vessel's wrist. “I... said... _stand down_!” she snapped, her eyes burning a brilliant shade of blue for a fraction of a second before darkness overtook her again.

  
  


* * *

  
  


When she came to, all she could really feel was pain. Everything ached, all the way to her marrow. It was like falling all over again, but this time, she didn't have the morphine drip to at least take the edge off. It took several minutes to gather the strength just to open her eyes, and the world took its sweet time falling back into focus.

The first thing she noticed was the water-stained ceiling. She followed the lines and cracks along the ceiling, willing herself to wake up a bit more. Blinking a few times, she realized she was lying in a bed, burritoed tightly in the blankets, swaddled like a fussy toddler. Frowning, she tried to free one hand to rub her eyes, but she'd been rendered practically immobile. Groaning, she started to look around again, head jerking to the side at an answering groan. Turning to look, she found Wordsmith lying next to her on the bed, red eyes opening tiredly as she scrunched her nose.

When she saw her friend's mostly clear gaze looking right back at her, Wordsmith gave an audible sigh of relief. “Oh, good... You're awake again,” she said, starting to sit up enough to glance at the clock, frowning. “Ugh... Your timing sucks,” she added, grumbling as she flopped back onto the bed, eyes closing as she started to doze again. “Keep resting, Inquisitor,” she mumbled into her pillow, one arm falling across her friend. “You gave us quite the scare...”

“U-us?” Cass asked shakily, her voice cracking as she tried to fight sleep. She let out a startled squeak when a familiar, though intimidating shadow fell over them both.

“Aww, man,” the Wordsmith groaned, face scrunched up in irritation as she raised her head out of the pillow, red eyes glinting.

Folding his arms and frowning deeply down at them, the Angel said, “You have a lot to explain, Inquisitor...”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee, tea, and a smidge of healing.

“For once you have tasted flight you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skywards, for there you have been and there you will long to return.”

~Leonardo da Vinci

 

The Inquisitor leaned back against the mound of pillows as she took the tea Galahad held out for her. Wincing at the pain that lanced up her side, she shifted to try to get comfortable, frowning. “What happened?”

Wordsmith sipped her own coffee, sighing as she sat on the edge of the bed, shrugging one shoulder. “Beats the hell outta me. For a second there, I thought your grace had come back or something—but then you were out like a light and we had to hail a cab to get you somewhere safe.”

“ _I_ got you in the cab,” Galahad said, green eyes narrowing at Wordsmith as he stood, dark and imposing in his suit. “ _You_ wormed your way in and wouldn't get out.”

“Oh, yeah, like I was about to let you ride off to who knows where with my friend,” the Demon said, glad to put on airs. Yes, that was it... Have an attitude with the angel that just tried to take you out... That was the smart plan... “I've never even heard of you, and I'm supposed to just entrust her to you?

“Regardless of whether or not you've heard of me, demon, your presence is no longer necessary,” he said, hand slowly reaching into his suit jacket.

“Oh, come on, can you two just relax for a minute?” the Inquisitor said, frowning at them both before she shook her head. “Galahad, this is the Wordsmith. She's been letting me crash at her place, and she's been taking care of me since I fell... Wordsmith, this is Galahad, another angel from my garrison.”

“I'm from the more... tactical division,” he said, still looking down his nose at Wordsmith with that look of bored disdain, like he didn't know why he was explaining himself to her. “Like I've said before, I have this place thoroughly guarded, demon. You needn't trouble yourself over this any longer—I can take care of the Inquisitor from here.

Almost in unison, both the Wordsmith and the Inquisitor frowned deeply at that. Blue eyes met red, looks exchanged before she looked back to Galahad, shaking her head. “I want her here,” she said. “She's been with me since just after I fell.”

“Unlike _some_ people I might mention,” Wordsmith said softly. Green eyes flicked to the demon's face, watching as a smug grin crossed her face before she innocently sipped on her coffee.

Intent to ignore the demon, Galahad looked to the angel as she sipped her tea. “You took a great risk fleeing outside without arranging safe passage, Inquisitor. You should have waited just a little longer—we were nearly ready to transport you...”

Pausing for a moment, she frowned, shaking her head a little. “It couldn't be helped... Something... came up...”

Galahad frowned, wondering if he should press her for details as he watched her flinch and shift as she tried to get comfortable. After a few moments, he moved closer, watching her face closely. “How bad is the pain?”

She gave a noncommittal sound, sipping her tea. She looked up when she felt their eyes on her, frowning a little. “It's tolerable. I'll live.”

“Are you still in pain?” Galahad asked, watching her closely.

Making a face, she motioned to the rest of her, eyes rolling a little as she frowned. “Still no grace, and still in this scarred vessel, aren't I?”

“How bad is it?” he asked without missing a beat.

Sighing at the line of questioning, Cass shrugged a little, trying to think of how to quantify it. “... It's... It hurts, okay, Galahad?”

“How long has it been like this?”

Sighing as her agitation grew, she ran a hand through her mussed hair, the half-wild curls framing her too-pale face. “I don't know... since they carved into me? Since I fell and landed in that crater?” Shaking her head a little, her eyes slipped out of focus before she murmured, “Just... just doesn't feel right...”

Wordsmith couldn't help frowning as she looked her friend over, sipping her coffee. “You've been hurting that long? Why didn't you say something?”

“Wait, being human isn't supposed to feel like this?” the Inquisitor asked, a half-smirk crossing her face before she said, “I can't really tell what it's _supposed_ to feel like...”

Galahad waited for her to finish her tea before reaching out, gently pressing two fingers to her forehead. The effect was immediate as she gave a shudder, falling back into the pillows as her eyes closed. A gasp escaped her as she twitched fitfully, the faintest trickle of grace flowing through her as she felt the cold burn of _light_ spread through her veins. She could feel the wound in her side stitching itself back together, the ache in her hips and legs, the pain along her ribs, all fading away. She gave a sigh of relief as she felt the tears fall, eyes shining bright through her eyelashes. As his hand pulled away, she felt the grace slipping away, a choked sound escaping her as she slowly came to her senses again. Some of the pain was still there, the twinge in her ribs, the itchy burn along her back, the ache and throb of her shattered wings, but it was just enough...

Wordsmith stared as her friend shuddered, slowly coming back to herself as she sat up. Her cheeks had regained some color, and she looked a lot less like death warmed over. “Holy shit,” she murmured into her coffee.

Sighing, Inquisitor nodded a little at Galahad. “That's... That's better... Thank you...”

He frowned as he watched her, sighing. “I wish I could give more...” Reaching out, he placed a hand over hers, ignoring the look of slight surprise that crossed her face. “What they did to you...”

Giving a hesitant smile, she gently patted his hand, trying to look as understanding as she could manage. “It's... it's all right, Galahad... Really... it's fine...”

Wordsmith watched her shift out of the covers, standing to stretch her legs a little. Red eyes followed the line of her back, spotting the half-healed sigil on her shoulder, frowning as she tried to remember which one it was. The erasure one? No... One of the binding sigils. She could see it in the early-dawn light, a faint glimmer of silver as she moved past the windows, checking the sigils. Her wings were there, still small, but visible in glimpses. She glanced towards Galahad, who was conversing with the angel. What was he up to...

“Explain something to me,” Wordsmith said, eyes narrowing a little as she stood, trying to ignore for a moment that she felt quite small next to the pair of them. “... It's been, what, seven? Eight months now? And this is the first time anyone's even tried to reach out to help?” Her eyes flicked to her friend, seeing the understanding there before she looked to Galahad again. “Cass needed you guys back then. I heard her calling out to you guys... And you're telling me that you're going to help now?”

Galahad's eyes darkened as he frowned, though the look was quickly gone, placing a gentle hand on the Inquisitor's shoulder. “It took time... We needed to gather our resources, buy some time, let the water settle a bit...”

Looking from Wordsmith to the taller angel, Cass frowned deeply. “What took time?”

“Finding your grace,” he said after a moment. “Things are moving quickly now, Inquisitor... Very soon now, you’ll be able to come home.”


End file.
